Of Nymphs and Kings
by Dovely
Summary: It is not for trees to fall in love with humans.
1. Chapter 1: A Mostly Known Tale

_I grew up with the Chronicles of Narnia- seriously, I read and reread the entire series until... well, I never stopped. I had the BBC movies of the four books, and I adore the Disney/Walden movies. For the most part, I love the new movies, but I have my gripes. One of them was the nymphs- the BBC version had these beautiful, wild women, dancing with fauns, and the new version has them as petals/leaves. And so, after watching the first one last night in a fever daze, I decided to explore the difference. I've had an idea like this in my head for several years, but this is the first time I've bothered to make it real. I think it will have 3 chapters- and here's the first._

* * *

"Weee doooo noooot fiiigggghhhht," were the whispers of the forest.

"I want to help Aslan," came a discordant note.

"Weee doooo noooot fiigggghhhht!" came the forest again, more emphasized.

"But our brethren spied for the White Witch!" said the note.

Leaves rustled, and a couple of dwarves looked around suspiciously before returning to cleaning their weapons.

"Youuu arrree yoouuung. Youuu wiiilll liiiissteeen," said the forest, and branches creaked with unrest. This time, the unmatched voice did not answer, and the forest stilled.

* * *

The youngest Pevensie sister, Lucy, heard a whisper that was not caused by the wind, and looked back to see a young tree, covered in blossoms, suddenly shiver. A whirlwind of blossoms gathered around the tree, coalescing into the shape of a woman. The blossom-woman raised her hand in greeting to the young human child, and Lucy waved back before jogging to catch up with her siblings.

The blossom tree looked after the children, her form nebulous, shifting in the breeze. She saw the three weary children and wondered about the fourth- were the rumors that the songbirds carried true, had he been taken by the Witch? Her first impression was of their weariness, and although the smallest one's smile had been sweet, she did not see how they would be saviors of the land she loved.

"We must help him! He's our brother!"

The tallest human's voice rang out, and the blossom tree took notice. She could hear the ring of authority in his voice, a promise of the man he was turning into, and for the first time she thought she saw what Aslan had seen- the promise of a savior, of a king of Narnia. She inched closer to the crowd until she couldn't get any further away from her roots. Frustrated, she looked back at her tree, and remembered the myths the fauns told about when the trees would step away from their groves and dance in the clearings. Frowning, she remembered how the forests had chastised her for asking about it, saying it was far too dangerous for trees to take a solid form outside of the safety of their bark.

She felt the ground rumble with Aslan's reply and shook her head. _She_ was not a part of the forest, not really. _She_ was not ancient and scared, having only broken from her seed 25 years ago. And so she concentrated, her blossoms swirling in the air. She gasped as she heard Narnia singing, the entire land joyous with the spell of winter lifted, and she felt a golden presence that could only be the great lion. She felt a foreboding as she felt her blossoms begin to draw in near to each other, remembering the staunch disapproval of her ancestors, but the golden light surrounding her was too bright to turn away from even she had desired to. And so, with a gasp, she found herself on her knees- knees!- the rich brown dirt gritty underneath her. Wonderingly, she raised a hand to her face and turned it, wiggling each of her fingers in turn. All was forgotten as she discovered her new body, and she discovered she could be chilled when a gust of wind hit her, she almost panicked. She was alone, disconnected, away from the forest-

No. There it was, the pull of her tree, her roothairs twitching in response to her call. She looked over shoulder, seeing her tree for the first time with humanoid eyes, and her branches waved in the air. She smiled, feeling strange muscles pull, and that reminded her of the humans. She turned back to the gathering and slowly, carefully, got to her feet. At first she was almost overcome with vertigo, but then she dug her toes into the ground, and felt her center of gravity settle. She walked to the outskirts of the group, relishing each new step and the sensations that came with her new awareness. At first, only a few noticed her, but slowly the smell of flowers pervaded the group, and they looked back and parted before her, and thus she made her way to the inner circle, and then to the inside, and found herself standing no more than 20 feet away from Aslan and the humans. She felt dizzy for a moment, and then she saw Aslan looking at her expressionlessly. Then, the three children turned and looked at her with varying amounts of surprise, and she lost her hold on herself.

* * *

The crowd's reverent silence had died when Edmund was mentioned, and it took Peter several moments to realize that it was becoming silent again in waves, as if parts of it were becoming muted one by one. A crisp and sweet smell drifted through the air, and he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling himself both relax and become invigorated with the scent. He opened them again to see

Aslan looking past him, at something behind them, and saw his sisters turn around. He followed suit and it took a moment for him to understand what he was seeing. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen stood at the edge of the crowd- all the Narnian's around her had stepped back several paces and were looking at her in something akin to awe- and he had a clear view. Her hair was long, past her waist, flowing around her in thick waves the color of dark brown like rich chocolate, glinting with pale silver. Her eyes were vivid, though he could not tell what color they were from this distance, and her skin was a flawless pale pink. She was also completely bare, her long hair providing some modesty in the way it draped over her. It was from her that the scent came, wafting on the breeze, sweet and subtle. His eyes met hers, and he saw her lips, a bruised plum color, part in surprise, giving him a glimpse of pearl-like white teeth-

And then she was gone, and a pile of pink petals, the same color as her skin, gently fell to the ground, and Peter was left with a despairing sense of loss as the scent of flowers washed over him, stronger than before. The entire field was quiet as a breeze picked up and scattered the petals over the meadow.

* * *

The two girls cried over the body of the lion, knowing they had to warn to their brothers about the Witch's attack, but unwilling to leave the stone table. And so they entrusted her message to the trees, and it was carried on the wind through the forest, until it reached the tree closest to the camp, young and proud, and covered in pink blossoms.

* * *

Peter woke with a start, hearing a rustling. He reached for his sword and swung it up to meet the threat- and found his blade pointed at a swirling body of petals. Entranced, the scent of flowers washed over him, and he lowered his sword as the young woman who had appeared in camp the other day solidified in front of him, again unclothed, her hair settling as the scent became less overpowering, though not before he had a much greater understanding of female anatomy than previous.

"Your majesty," the woman said, her voice breathy and soft- he decided it had a dreamlike quality to it. Closer, moonlight illuminating her, he could tell that she was definitely not human- her skin was not just pink, but had golden lines in it, and her eyes were so vivid because they were almost colorless, the irises a shade lighter than her skin. When she reached out a hand to him, he saw that her fingers were long and thin, ending in pale golden nails with pearly half-moons. The fauns had told him, in hushed and reverent whispers, that she must have been a nymph, a fabled tree come to live and removed from its roots, but that one had not been seen in solid since before the White Witch had conquered the land.

"Your majesty," she said again, and Peter realized that he not replied and flushed- his gaze had fallen to her shapely legs and a flash of bare thigh, "I bring you grave news."

As she spoke, his heart fell, and he felt as if he could see his sisters and Aslan over the tops of hundreds of tall trees, their leaves gently moving in the night in agitation. He nodded, listening, and when she was done he thanked her gravely. Again, the scent of flowers filled the tent, and he lifted a hand before she could disappear.

"Who are you?"

She looked surprised and then thoughtful, her head tilted as a playful breeze unsettled small objects inside the tent.

"I am… I am the tree that grows by the entrance to the meadow."

"You are a nymph?"

"Yes, my King."

"What is your name?"

She looked confused for a moment before replying, "I have no name, your majesty. I am a tree. Trees are nothing without their forest, and I am with the Great Eastern forest." Then, almost as an afterthought, she continued in a bemused voice, "I am very young. The forest thinks I am foolish for leaving my roots."

Peter blinked, trying to follow. "Why did you, ah, leave your roots then?"

The nymph-tree woman looked at him, her eyes bright as her dark lips turned up in a smile.  
"I wished to serve you, Narnia's King, and Aslan, and to help defeat the White Witch"

Peter gazed into her eyes, unable to look away, as her body returned to petals. The last thing he heard before she completely disappeared was a whispered and haunting, "they attack at when the sun hits the crest of the hills, my King."

* * *

Peter had a meeting with his generals before dawn. When he said to meet at the blossom tree near the edge of the meadow, Edmund had looked at him askance, but said nothing, for which Peter was thankful. He didn't know why he wanted the nymph to be a part of it, but something about the way she had proclaimed her loyalty made him feel that he should. Once they were all at the tree, he raised his hand to stop Oreius from speaking.

"First, let me introduce someone." Peter turned to the tree and made a small bow. "Please come out."

For a moment nothing happened, and then the leader of the fauns, gasped. This time, the nymph stepped out of the trunk, forming as she hit air. Once again, Peter found himself face to face with the lovely woman, and she curtsied to him before looking at their companions curiously.

"You truly are a nymph, are you not!" the faun exclaimed excitedly. The woman's features lighted up as she nodded.

Oreius coughed pointedly, and all looked to the centaur. "I apologize, Sire, but I fail to see how this nymph can help us. Also, she seems to be distracting the young prince."

Peter looked at Edmund, and true to the centaur's words, his brother was a shade of bright red and looking at the ground. He looked back at the nymph and soon realized why- the breeze was playful this morning, and her hair was swirling around her body, not always preserving modesty; a curve of breast, flash of stomach, triangle above her thighs... Peter tried very hard not to join his brother in blushing.

The centaur sighed and turned to the nymph, "My lady of the forest, these humans are not used to your nature. Could you please clothe yourself?"

The faun frowned and spoke before the nymph could reply, "She is a nymph! She should not be sullied with even the finest silks!"

Tinkling laughter defused the building tension, and all eyes were on the woman again. This time, when her hair lifted from her body, they could see that she was covered in petals down to her knees, and she smiled sweetly.  
"I am sorry. Lord faun, your support is appreciated, but it has been a long time since my kind have walked the lands of Narnia. Times change, and I will do as my King deems fit. I did not mean to cause discourse, Lord Centaur."

Oreius nodded, then repeated in a more reserved tone, "I still do not understand how she can help us, Sire."

This time, pale pink eyes turned to Peter, and he swallowed, both relieved she was clothed and yet also feeling disappointed.  
"I too do not understand, my King, but I am glad to assist."

"I thought that you may have some insight to share," Peter admitted.

She paused for a moment before replying softly, "I am still very young, my King, and I have never strayed from my tree before. However, I can ask my brethren for their knowledge, and they can ask the other forests.

All eyes were upon her as she closed her eyes and outstretched her arms, swaying softly. When she opened them and spoke, all listened gravely as she spoke of where the Witch was gathering her men and of the best defensive areas. When she was finished speaking, there was silence for only a moment, and then they all began to speak and devise a plan. When they were done, Peter looked to Oreius, who nodded in approval before speaking.

"Then, my friends, let us ready our troops and meet the Witch's army!"

* * *

They stood poised for battle. Peter, Oreius, and were at the front of the Narnian army. He had argued with the tree, but she had looked at him calmly and asked how else was she supposed to keep him updated with the forests' intelligence? When he had looked to the centaur for help, Oreius had only shrugged in response.

A shriek echoed above the silent battlefield, and a griffin wheeled above them before coming to land. The golden beast updated them, and when Peter looked to the woman standing beside them, she closed her eyes for a moment before nodding once.

"Her entire army is gathered. There is no other movement through the trees- there will be no surprise attacks."

"Good," Peter replied. When he saw the minotaur appear, he looked back down at the pale pink woman. "You should go join my brother now."

As her eyes met his, he realized that he no longer found her strange or unsettling. And when she turned and left, disappearing behind the fauns, he felt for a pink petal that he had placed under his armor, still unsure why he done such a thing but taking comfort in it nonetheless.

* * *

He was faltering, getting tired, and yet the Witch pressed on with even more strength and energy. When she knocked King Peter's sword away, the blossom nymph began to run towards the deadly pair, dodging the stone leftovers of the Narnian army.

"No!"

As she screamed, she changed, returning to a whirlwind of petals. This time however, the wind did not scatter her, but instead swept her into the battlefield. Still in petal form, she threw herself over the human, and the Witch shouted in anger as petals blinded her and she felt the sword hit the ground instead of the boy.

"Foolish tree!" the Witch growled, raising her sword once again-

-and then the world froze as the a roar shook the land and Aslan joined the fray.

* * *

It was over, truly over, and the weary Narnians were returning to their camp. There were none physically injured, thanks to Lucy's cordial, but there were still many of their own kind left dead. Peter was so full of relief and joy that his sisters and brother were alive, as well as Aslan, that he didn't notice a conspicuous absence until they halfway back to camp. He turned to Aslan and opened his mouth, ready to ask, when Aslan answered before any words could be uttered.

"She is alive and healthy. The forest called her back, and she waits at her tree."

Peter spent the rest of the journey in silence, thinking of a woman with pale pink skin and a scent of flowers. He remembered the icy comprehension felt when he saw the Witch raise her sword above him, helpless to do more than just watch, and then the petals, creating a pink and white shield above him. He recalled seeing the barest hint of a face above his in the petals, and then the angry shout of the witch. And then, Aslan, saving them all. Somewhere in the aftermath, the petals had been blown away, and he felt a deep and wrenching guilt for not noticing. She had saved his life, and he had repaid her by forgetting.

Once in camp, he had immediately started for her tree, and Aslan had joined them. The great lion stopped him once they were within a few meters, and Peter shifted in annoyance. Suddenly, he heard whispers, hundreds of them, and he shuddered. He knew without asking that these were the voices of the trees of the Great Forest, and that they were unhappy, even angry. In a few moments, he realized why- they were condemning the blossom tree, calling her foolish, impulsive, and a threat to the forest. Peter opened his mouth to say something in defense, but found he could not speak. Instead, he heard a great whisper asked the blossom tree what she had to defend herself. And then, in a tinkling of wind and leaves, he heard her voice, lighter and more passionate than any of the great tree's whispers.

"I will not apologize and I will not regret! I am a free Narnian!"

A malovent silence settled over them, like a heavy blanket, and then the great whisper sentenced her.

"You are no longer a part of us, stubborn sapling. We renounce you from the forest."

The presence lifted and all was silent again. And then a breeze picked up, and petals began to fall from the blossom tree, landing on the ground. Peter turned to ask Aslan what was happened, when he saw the nymph step out from her tree- only this time, her head was bowed, and she seemed hazy and hard to focus on. As she neared them, he realized it was because she slightly transparent, and saw that her hair was wispy, and petals were falling from it to land at her feet whenever she stepped, leaving a trail of pale pink behind her. She walked to them and knelt, lifting her face to look at them, and Peter saw that she was crying, only tiny crystalline petals fell from her eyes instead of tears.

"What… what has happened?" Peter asked, afraid of the answer.

"She has been banished by the forest for denying their counsel," Aslan replied. "It is a grave and unforgiveable offence for those of the trees."

"But what will happen?" He asked, although in his heart he already knew.

She confirmed his fears she smiled softly, weak but brave. "I will die. My tree is dying, and soon my roots will dry up. A tree without her forest is nothing."

"No!" Peter exclaimed, blinking away tears in his own eyes. He turned to Aslan, angry. "This isn't fair! She helped us, helped Narnia! You can't just let her die!"

Aslan turned his shaggy head to look at him, and Peter immediately felt ashamed- but still defensive.

"Please Aslan," he begged, "don't let her die."

"All living things must die, " Aslan replied sadly, but he turned to look at the nymph kneeling in front of them. "Tell me, tree-child, why did you disobey your brethren?"

"For love, my lord Aslan," came her reply, weaker than her voice had been before.

Alarmed, Peter also knelt down and tried to take her hand- his hand went right through hers, starting a small shower of petals.

"Ah, my child. It is not for a tree to love a human. But that you acted in love is true, and that your intentions were pure is truer yet. You knew you faced banishment, and yet you continued and followed your heart. I cannot give you back your forest, but I call you a hero, and I can give you a new tree."

Aslan bent his head and breathed over the nymph softly. For a moment, nothing happened, and then disappeared in a flurry of petals. Peter cried out and tried to gather them up, but they turned brown and fell apart under his hands. A loud creaking noise made him look up, and he saw the blossom tree, now dried and flowerless, slowly bend and then break, leaving a jagged trunk and a carpet of dead flowers.

"No…" Peter whispered.

"Dear one, stand up. Have faith, for what is done in pure love will not be punished. Your army wonders where you are, and you must prepare them for a journey to Cair Paravel."

Peter looked at Aslan, wearier than he'd ever been before, and slowly nodded.

"Have faith," Aslan said again, and then allowed Peter to put an arm out on him to help steady himself.

* * *

They were within half a day's journey from Cair Paravel. Peter had been withdrawn since the battle, but with each step closer to the castle, he felt his spirit lifting. He remembered Aslan's admonishment for him to keep faith, and he felt himself waiting for something, expecting something grand, something unexpected. Soon, as they walked up the steps leading into the courtyard, he couldn't help himself, and he ran forward, ahead of the others.

He stopped when he saw a tree in front of him. It was fairly tall tree, slender, but it had a sense of newness and youth about it. It had a trunk of dark, dark brown, and its leaves were a dark green, veined with gold. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy soon caught up him, with Aslan not far behind.

Lucy clapped her hands excitedly and said, "Isn't that beautiful!"

Susan, more contained, stepped up and said thoughtfully, "Aren't those laurel leaves?"

Edmund, then chimed in with, "I've never seen a laurel tree like that before though."

Peter just looked at Aslan in silent question, and the great lion bowed his head in silent acknowledgement. Suddenly, a soft breeze swept through the courtyard. Peter held his breath, watching the tree, hoping…

Slowly, the branches of the tree bent down, curtaining the trunk. When they lifted, the nymph stood there- and it was, it was her, the blossom-tree nymph, yet only not. Where her skin had been pink, now it was a dusky golden color, with lines of a darker, burnished gold running under her skin. Her hair was still the same chocolate brown, but now was gilded in a dark green, like moss on a stone. But it was her face that held him captivated, for her eyes were no longer the palest of pink, but now the color of the burnished gold than ran under her skin, and her full lips were a dark green. At first, he had a fleeting thought that this wasn't her at all, but then she smiled, and his heart sang in response, and he had no doubts. Wordlessly, he stretched out his hand to her, and she took it, still smiling, and curtsied, her hair flowing all around her.

When she stood, he realized that she was covered in a garment made of leaves, and he just watched her wonderingly as she turned to his siblings and introduced herself to them.

"I was dying when Lord Aslan took me from my tree and gave me this one. I have no forest, but my roots stretch out across all of Cair Paravel, and I vow to serve you and this castle as best I can."

"But…" Lucy began, always the first of the four to recover. "But what is your name?"

The golden nymph tilted her head curiously and replied much the same way she had that night in his tent. "I am a tree." Then she blinked and continued in a somewhat bewildered voice, "I used to claim a forest, but I do not anymore… I do not know who I am now."

"But you must have a name!" Lucy exclaimed, her eyes merry.

Aslan then spoke, his voice gentle. "Yes, tree-child, you must have a name."

Peter looked at them and said quietly, "Her name should be Laurel. It is her tree. It suits her."

The nymph whispered the name to herself, and then smiled brightly. "Yes, I like that. I am Laurel!"

Aslan's eyes crinkled, and Peter could have sworn that the great lion was smiling. "Then so it shall be. From henceforth, you are Laurel, Nymph and Guardian of Cair Paravel." Aslan looked all of the humans and then said, "As the heroes of old in your world were crowned with laurel leaves, so they will be here. Come, future kings and queens of Narnia- we have a coronation to plan for!"

Laurel smiled and said softly, "I shall be honored to provide my leaves for the ceremony."

As they all left the courtyard to enter the castle, Peter looked back for a moment. Laurel smiled at him and he heard the breeze whisper, "Thank you, my King," before the nymph raised her arms and disappeared back into her tree in a swirl of leaves. And as he turned to follow his siblings into the castle and their future, he was smiling, his fingers playing with a lone laurel leaf that been blown over to him.


	2. Chapter 2:  Goldspun

_Okay, so this is going to be 4 chapters. Possibly 5, but I'm hoping not. I decided that I didn't want to have a single, 7000 word chapter._

_Also went back and edited the first chapter a little bit. Nothing too major._

_

* * *

_

It was late afternoon, the sun high in the sky but dipping noticeably westward, when the lilting notes of pipes being played faintly echoed throughout the castle. The idea of a deep green forest and a feeling of revelry infused all inhabitants, and a few began to unconsciously hum to the catchy tune. The eldest son of Adam, now nearing twenty and five, was not immune and put down the book on Calormen history he'd been reading. He walked to nearest window overlooking the central courtyard and smiled down at what he saw. Two fauns were playing their pipes in a light-hearted duet, while another faun and a young woman circled each other in a playful and lively dance, primal and sensuous. He stood there until the song was over, a smiling lingering on his face, and then made his way down the great stone steps. As he reached the doors, a new song had been started, the strains of the pipe sweet and haunting. He stepped outside and saw the woman swaying gracefully, her golden arms outstretched, face raised to the sky. Her hair shone, sunswept, and it fluttered in the breeze, almost as if it too were dancing in excitement to the song. As if she sensed his presence, she turned and saw him, her lips forming an answering smile to his own. The fauns were so intent upon their playing that they did not see him until she beckoned for him to come join them, and all three bowed as he came near.

"King Peter! It is an honor to have you join us," said the one who he'd seen dancing earlier.

"The honor is mine to listen to such great musicians," the king replied cordially before returning his attention to the woman in front of them. He took her outstretched hand and raised it to his mouth, kissing the smooth skin. "It is also my honor to see such a lovely creature dance."

The lovely creature in question remained silent but smiled softly, her eyes never leaving his, and he kept her hand in his. As the fauns began to play again, this time a lighthearted court tune, he grinned and pulled her into a spin. She laughed, her amber eyes shining and brilliant, and they began to dance together in a way only well accustomed partners can. Their gaze was only broken by the spins, and Peter allowed the music to pull him back into the first time they had danced like this.

* * *

It was coronation day, and all of the siblings were a little nervous. As Aslan walked them through the great hall, what seemed like the eyes of all of Narnia were upon them, and Peter tried not to noticeably swallow. The ceremony passed in blur, and he barely remembered receiving his title and golden crown. The crown was not heavy, but it weighed upon him, and once the ceremony itself was over, he slipped out to the balcony as soon as he could get away from all of the people who wanted to talk to him- all of the people he was now responsible for. Breathing in deeply, he leaned on the stone railing and closed his eyes, letting the salty sea air fill his lungs.

"My King?" A voice asked softly, and he stood up and turned around to greet the speaker.

He found he was at a loss for words. Laurel stood just outside the doorway, watching him curiously. His gaze took her in; her rich brown hair had been left down, but was adorned with golden combs carved into fine filigrees of swirls and leaves. She was clothed in a deceptively simple brocade dress, but it was so finely woven in a dark green with golden thread that it appeared to be a part of her. And though she wore no jewels, her dusky golden skin seemed to glow in an ethereal beauty.

He hadn't realized he'd been staring until she ducked her head shyly and soundlessly ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt.

"You look beautiful," Peter said, his voice full of feeling, even if his words were vastly inapt.

Nonetheless, she looked up at him again and smiled warmly.

"I was not sure. I am… unaccustomed to this kind of covering. The tailor said that my leaves were unsuitable for this momentous of an occasion however," and as she spoke, she plucked at her skirt again, lifting it slightly.

Peter felt himself crack into a smile, and then into a grin, and then laughed merrily, his own shyness dissipating.  
"They couldn't get you in shoes, I see!"

Startled, she looked down, and then joined him, her laughter ringing like glass bells.  
"They tried, but I could not walk easily in them and they hurt my feet. I already can't rejoin my tree while in these coverings."

A flush passed her face as she smiled at him secretly, and then leaned in conspiratorially and whispered so that he had to concentrate to hear.  
"I called upon the zephyr-wind to blow those horrible things away. They gave up on shoeing me after that."

Peter laughed again, his heart lifting. He motioned for her to join him by the railing, and she gracefully stepped forward, looking over the ocean. They remained in companionable silence, the surf muting the sounds of celebration inside, until she began to speak in a dreamy tone.

"I have been speaking to Aslan. He says that my kind once roamed freely, as often not in their native form as in. He called me Dryad, and said there were other nymphs that didn't have trees; there are the Nereids in the oceans and Naiads of the rivers as well, although we do not speak the same tongue. I never knew this; the Forest did not speak of it. Being here and seeing it now, the ocean seems so vast- I wonder how my cousins keep from being swept away if they do not have roots?"

Peter listened, and as she spoke, he imagined women shaped like water, blue and green, their hair white like sea foam. He then remembered how Laurel had first appeared, bare to the world, and coughed. Laurel was looking at him curiously, and he wasn't sure what to say. Luck was with him however, for the musicians inside had started playing a happy tune on their instruments, and he saw Laurel incline her head ever so slightly so as to hear it better. Peter stepped back and bowed formally to the nymph, and offered her his arm.

"Shall we dance, my Lady Laurel?"

Her eyes lit up and she smiled, her delight genuine and palpable, and stepped forward to meet him.  
"I should like that very much, my King!"

They returned to the great hall, her hand on his arm, and joined the dance; Peter was vaguely aware of the attention they drew, but he was focused completely on his partner. As they danced, one song blurring into many, he felt his spirit lift and then soar. He lost track of time, and did not notice when Aslan left the hall. When it came to say goodnight and farewell, he found himself reluctant to let his partner go, though he could not say exactly why.

He had just bid her a good night, lingering in letting her go, and she bowed her head.

"Goodnight, my King."

He looked at her for a moment until she met his eyes once more and then spoke.  
"Peter, please. I'm king to enough people- let me be just Peter with you."

She paused, and then softly replied, "You will always be my king, but I will do as you wish. Goodnight… Peter."

His last thought before drifting to sleep was that his duty of being king no longer seemed to weigh him down, and his dreams were full of dancing flames of gold.

* * *

The first several years of his reign were quiet and healing. Narnia had been freed of the White Witch, but scars were still evident across the land and in hearts. Oreius had taken it upon himself to guard and watch Narnia's new kings and queens, and that included a vast education in an array of subjects, from history and geography in the mornings, to field and fighting skills in the afternoons. Each Pevensie had their specialty. Lucy loved music and history, and spent a great deal of time with Mr. Tumnus, pouring over books and scrolls. Edmund was more interested in philosophy and geography than any of them, and often could be heard asking, "but _why_" to anyone who possibly had an answer. Susan was more interested in art, and soon began to paint and converse with other Narnian artists. Peter spent his time learning about as much as he could, but was drawn to Narnian history and lore. All of the children had practiced and became experts in their arms of choice- Edmund and Peter became the best swordsmen in the land, and Peter also became skilled with lances. Lucy, ever the healer, still practiced with her dagger. And Susan became a master of archery, bested only in competitions by champions of native people. Sometimes, they would leave Cair Paravel for several days and camp, living off the land and learning to navigate by the stars.

Throughout it all, there was Laurel. She joined them for some of the lessons, and helped teach others- she was not so old, but she had the memories and knowledge of the Great Eastern Forest, whose eldest trees had sprung from their seeds at the dawn of Narnia. She never showed much interest in science, but she could listen for hours to philosophy, and could often be found in the background of debates, patiently observing. She had a love for music, though not so much for the theory behind it, and was perplexed by art. Once Susan had asked her why she didn't care for paintings, and Laurel had looked at her, bemused, and replied, "why do you feel the need to capture beauty when there is the world?" Susan had frowned, Lucy had laughed, and Peter had to look down to keep their sister from seeing their smiles. Edmund had seen an opening for discussion, and soon he and Susan were arguing the merits of art, while Laurel watched them silently. It was moments like these when Peter would find himself glancing at her surreptitiously, and soon he learned to recognize her expressions, so similar and yet alien to his own.

His fascination with the nymph had not disappeared, and the pull he felt was stronger than ever. He found himself thinking about her more often than not, and spent as much time as he could in her company, often finding reasons to visit with her. Soon, he found himself forgetting that she was not human despite the obvious differences. For her part, she began to find herself more used to company than not, and began to understand some of the human niceties- although she never did wear shoes.

It was one of these times when she and Peter were resting in a far corner of Cair Paravel in a sheltered and generally unvisited garden, shaded by tall and insentient trees, discussing the beginnings of Narnia and its first rulers, King Frank and Queen Helen, when Peter jumped up excitedly.

"If their descendants went to Archenland, then we should too, and open trading routes! Oreius has already been saying that it's time we did a royal tour across Narnia, and this would the perfect time to regain Archenland as an ally!"

Laurel looked away from him, and Peter stared at her, knowing her well enough to realize she was upset.  
"What's wrong, Laurel? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I… no, it is I who should be apologetic. I cannot leave these grounds for long, lest the wind scatter my leaves to the edges of Narnia and beyond- I must be able to find my tree or I will perish. I am sorry that I cannot be a better companion to you," Laurel said, her voice full of sorrow.

Peter felt as if he had been pierced to his core. She could not leave, of course. He had forgotten in his excitement, so proud of his idea. Dropping to his knees, he took her hand in his and looked up at her. She met his gaze curiously, her amber meeting his stormy-blue.

"No, Laurel," he said with feeling, "I am sorry, and it is I who should be, never you. I beg your forgiveness. I forget that you must stay here sometimes; sometimes you must feel like a prisoner."

"Peter…" wordlessly, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, and he felt fevered and lightheaded. Her hand was cool and soft, and unconsciously he leaned into her touch. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the world was frozen, the air silent, and not a breath of wind touched the pair. They stared at each other, eyes wide, and it seemed as if a song was yearning to break free in their souls.

"King Peter!" A deep voice broke the spell holding them, as Oreius called in the not-too-far distance. Laurel made a choked sound and stood up fluidly.

"My lord centaur appears to be searching for you, no doubt for something of import. I will leave now, for he said that I should be careful not to distract you from your studies, and I do not wish another lecture from him," she said, the hint of a smile on her lips softening her words; she was in awe of the centaur, if not intimidated, and they had clashed somewhat in the past.

She looked down at Peter, and half-smiled, her tone both playful and sad. "My King, Cair Paravel has never been a prison. And even was it so, it would be the sweetest jail, so long as you were here to share it with."

When Oreius trotted into the glade, he came to a quick halt, taking in the scene before him. His king was on his knees by a stone bench, a gentle wind feathering his hair as a few leaves skittered across the ground. Oreius looked down as one hit his hoof and sighed deeply, recognizing both his king's expression and the species of leaf.

"Ah, my Lord," was all the centaur said, his voice sympathetic and understanding.

* * *

The next few weeks, after Peter and Laurel's meeting in the hidden garden, passed in a blur. Oreius had made good on his word that there should be a royal tour, and as such, the castle was bustling with this major endeavor. Eagles and kites were sent as messengers all over Narnia and to Archenland, and there were a great deal of other preparations that had to be fulfilled before the royal retinue left, for the tour was to last close to a year.

Peter found himself too busy to even speak with Laurel, and whenever he tried to find her, she was away. Finally, late one morning, he found himself free and idling, and immediately took off to find the nymph. Susan and Lucy watched him leave, and Susan rolled her eyes. When Lucy looked at her questioningly, the older girl just shook her head. Edmund glanced up and shrugged, before returning to a map he was memorizing.

Peter found her outside, sitting on one of the stone steps facing the sea, her face turned up into the sun. She was wearing a simple silver tunic; she had begun to wear crafted fabric more often, and had a small cache by her tree for her to change into and out of clothes before returning to her roots. He paused for a moment, admiring her sunbathed form, before stepping forward. As if she sensed his presence, she opened her eyes and looked over at him, smiling in silent greeting.

"Come with me," Peter said suddenly, and offered her his hand. Without hesitation, she took it, and he helped her up. They made their way down towards the ocean, pausing only for Peter to take off his shoes. Once they reached where the sand grew wet from the surf, they stopped, still hand in hand. They remained that way, much as they had a few years before at the coronation, gazing out upon the ocean in silent companionship.

The tide was beginning to come in, the edges of waves pulling at their feet with their dying gasp. Peter felt his breeches begin to pull, the water soaking him below his knees. He looked over at Laurel, her dress floating on the water as if it were part of the surf, and felt his heart give completely. She was gazing at him unabashedly, her eyes lingering over every part of him. He felt as he imagined a dying man in a desert would, finding an oasis full of sweet, live-giving water. Without thinking, he pulled her to him, her hair tickling his nose; when they had first met, he had been at an eye with her, but now he was several inches taller. For a moment they stayed like that, king and nymph, with her pressed against his chest, the current rocking them enough that their footing wasn't sure. Peter felt free and wild, and his soul finally sang with a thousand songs as he wove his hand into her hair, soft and tangled from the sea spray, and pulled her head back softly. She gazed at him, her lips parted in surprise, and as a wave hit them, salty water splashing against their form, he dipped his head and kissed her.

It was not a passionate kiss, though he felt it to his core. Nor was it incredibly romantic, although he now understood the sonnets of old. But it was their first kiss, for each other and themselves, and as their lips gently brushed, he felt both young and old, open and captive, and incredibly overcome by the rush of sensations. When they pulled apart, the world seemed wider, the colors brighter, and he decided that she, Laurel, _his_ Dryad, had never been so beautiful.


End file.
